The Black Friday

In the most secluded areas of Newcastle-upon-Tyne, there stands a manor, to this day invisible to non-magical eyes. A lone figure apparated just outside the gates of the imposing, foreboding and forbidding structure, clad in deep blue robes. The person was Sirius Black, Padfoot of the Marauders, a grim animagus who could never stay grim, (to his mind) the supreme prankster to ever grace the earth, and newly minted godfather to the kid of his best friend.

He walked with purpose. It was a mission indeed that he had embarked upon that morning when he left from Longbottom Hall, the ad hoc headquarters of the Coven, as the new group within the resistance against Lord Voldemort called themselves. It was a mission that he would choose over and over to do, no matter the cost to him. As it was, the worst that would happen would be his grandfather kicking him out of the family home. This mission, so close to his heart, though would let him do something that he wanted to do for the longest time.

"I am coming, oh Blackest of the Blacks, and you are going to have a splitting headache by the time I am done!" sing-songed Sirius rhymelessly, unable to keep the glee out of his voice at the prospect of thumbing his nose at his bigoted family. Were it not for the fact that it would have either caused his membership among the group of red-blooded males to be revoked, or given Lily more ammunition to call him a little child, Sirius would probably have giggled madly at the prospect.

The previous evening, as he went over the plan that Alice, Lily, he, the three Elders, James, Frank and most importantly the Prewett twins had hatched, Sirius had an epiphany – or two. He was going to prank his family. And he had become an adult. He had mused silently about the subject as he had lain on his bed waiting for sleep as he wondered where the time had gone. Just the other day he was pulling pranks that involved potions, a riot of colours and lots of people screaming in irritation. Now his pranks had graduated to House Business. "Hmm...That's promising. Pranking as a business... there are definite possibilities," he muttered. Shaking his head, he brought his thoughts back to the present.

As soon as he stepped into the sitting room, heralded by the magical alarm within the house, a house-elf popped into existence at his knee.

"What is Billy being doing for Master Seer-e-us?"

Sirius smiled at the elf. Unlike that piece of excrement, Kreacher, Billy was an elf that Sirius genuinely liked. Billy used to play with him when the elf babysat him during family meetings. "Please inform my grandfather, the Lord Black, that I have come to meet him, and that I bear very important news."

"Yes Master Seer-e-us."

It was one of the things that Sirius hated about the House-elves. They managed to garble almost any name. And Sirius seriously loved his name. It was the one thing his mother had done well – giving him a punny name, that was always there to make light of any matter.

"Lord Black being calling Master Seer-e-us to his study, Master Seer-e-us," Billy the elf squeaked from near his knee again, startling him a teensy bit. Smiling kindly – if uneasily – at the elf, the grey-eyed man strode towards his destination. Yes, Agent-Commander Black, Sirius Black, would be performing his mission as an ambassador, as assigned by M – er, Aunt Dorea.

Imagining the music in the background, Sirius summoned his most suave manner and strutted/ strode to his Grandfather's study. Keeping his voice low, and respectful, as his superior had commanded, he asked, "May I come in, Lord Black?"

Arcturus looked up from the paperwork he was perusing after a slight pause. It was the man's manner of putting his visitors off-track by reminding them subtly that it was "his House, his business, his office and his time. He was doing them a massive favour by allotting them time from his busy schedule, and they would do well to remember that."

Sirius had learnt the tricks at the very same man's knee, however grudgingly, from the age of seven.

"Grandson," acknowledged Arcturus. "Do come in."

"Thank you Grandfather," Sirius respectfully replied with a slight bow of the neck. He did not sit however. Arcturus had not invited him to take a seat.

This was the first time, he realised, that he had returned since he had escaped his mother and her all-consuming madness. If Arcturus wanted to show the relationship now, Sirius would not be the one who would be found wanting when he had a mission to accomplish so that he could help the most important people in his life. As far as Sirius was concerned, so long as Arcturus controlled his tribe of barbarians, he couldn't care what they called each other.

Arcturus Black had not accorded his grandson even the simple courtesy of asking after his well-being, in spite of the fact that Sirius had found refuge in the home of the man's youngest sister. Actions had truly spoken louder than words, and they had been accentuated by the stifling silence. It had been made quite clear to Sirius that he was unwelcome.

All through those years of estrangement, from the ninth of July 1976, exactly a month after his sixteenth birthday, when Sirius had limped onto a broom while suffering from the effects of Cruciatus exposure and had crash-landed in the garden of The Potters' Manor, Sirius had assiduously kept up the front that screamed "FUCK YOU!" at his family. Yet he had held a sliver of hope that maybe one of them would see sense. Andromeda did not count. She was sensible anyway. Regulus had given him the news about being disowned. And Sirius had made sure that his brother knew that the feeling was mutual.

Sirius had a family. It was the Marauders. He was now a Black only in name. He was Sirius Black, son of the House of Potter, brother to Prongs and Moony, and Lily as well, in heart and spirit, godfather to the future Prongslet, and the beloved of Marlene McKinnon. Just the thought of them all made him feel happy and confident.

The two men stared at each other interminably. "Take a seat, Sirius."

"Thank you." He was on a mission here, and that came first. Arcturus and his family could go boil their heads.

"It has been quite some time since I last saw you, Sirius."

"Yes, Lord Black. It has been three years, four months and twenty one days since I was disowned."

"So you feel the estrangement then?"

"Of course I do," Sirius returned jovially. "I have not been cursed with an Unforgivable by anyone, let alone in a House-sponsored attempt to murder me by my own mother in that time span!"

Arcturus stiffened at that barb. He had not known at that time that Walburga had gone to such lengths as to curse the Heir Black. He had asked her to control her son after he had brought shame to the House of Black during their negotiations with the House of Lestrange by calling the visitors inferior beasts that should have been drowned at birth and spitting at Rudolphus' feet. Rabastan Lestrange had also walked with his legs switched sides as well as his feet switching their front-facing orientation for a week. The heavily in love Bellatrix too had been reduced to tears with the unrelenting itching that refused to let up for yet another week.

"I didn't disown you," Arcturus curtly declared.

"Am I supposed to be grateful about that?" he snarked back.

Arcturus' face settled into a frown. "What do you want?" Arcturus asked bluntly. He snapped the door closed wandlessly.

'So he is going for intimidation, is he?' mused Sirius. Arcturus could well have tried, but unknown to the old man, Sirius was the rightful Heir for a reason. The Grim-Animagus was the most powerful Black of his generation – and also of at least the last four generations. And if the Blacks understood anything, it was power. Well, two could play the game. James Bond would be briefed about the mission by M, but when it came to actually working in the field, Commander Bond would do things his own way.

"It doesn't matter what I want, Arcturus," he coldly replied, disrespecting his grandfather by using his given name. The old man blinked in shock. "I am here simply as an ambassador from Lady Potter. I have a letter from her that she wishes you to read. On the other hand, I am also giving you a warning, personally, that should any of this family bear the Dark Mark, I consider them my enemy. I am going to find them and kill them." The threat was delivered in the same way that one would say, "I am going to the grocer and buy a pack of biscuits." He extended his hand just barely to let the letter reach Arcturus. He was going to turn the tables on this old bastard.

This was not the Sirius that Arcturus had last known. That boy had been of the impetuous, leap-before-you-look type. But more importantly, he was innocent. He was an innocent boy. This Sirius Black was anything but that.

"You dare disrespect me?" Arcturus softly snarled.

"As a matter of fact, no," Sirius replied calmly. "I am giving you all the respect you deserve, Arcturus. Blacks don't respect failures. You are a failure. Please, read the letter, I have more pressing things that need my attention than you and your temper tantrums."

"So you have whored yourself to that fool of a Headmaster of yours, have you? You would usurp my position at his behest?" Arcturus goaded.

Sirius looked at him for a moment, before throwing his head back as he laughed a clear, cold, ringing laughter. "Rich talk from you, Arcturus," he muttered weakly. "You, who bow down to blood-purity ideals that your dim cognitive ability – which matches only your poor magical power, by the way – fails to completely comprehend, and allow your family members to fall to their knees in front of a half-blood bastard, ask me whether I have bowed down to another?"

It was impressive. Sirius had insulted the man's ego, magical and mental ability in one statement. It spoke of the fact that the very people he wanted to control had raised the Gryffindor as a Slytherin.

"Read the letter and stop your posturing, Arcturus. I am the only true Black. I bow neither to the megalomaniac Tom Riddle, nor to the power-fearing fool Albus Dumbledore. And I am here to take whatever steps necessary to protect my family." He still hadn't moved from the slightly reclining position in the chair in which he sat with his right ankle over his left knee. Arcturus should have known that Sirius was a Marauder. He had goaded the slow to anger Dumbledore into punishing them all once.

Arcturus took the letter and with that pretentious, small paper-cutter, tore it open.

Arcturus,

I hope that this letter finds you in good health, spirits, and most importantly, sanity. I write this letter to you to register a grievance against your Lordship, even though I write this letter as a sister to a brother.

As you may no doubt know, several of the younger generation have joined the terrorist who claims to be Slytherin's Heir, the one called Lord Voldemort. He espouses the purity of blood. It is a concept that you have believed in all your life, and has led to us being estranged as siblings as well, because I dared question it.

You believe that showing 'the filth' their place is the pinnacle of pureblood glory. You, and those idiots that you sold the daughters of the House of Black to, believe that this Voldemort creature is the saviour, the messiah for the magical populace; that he will lead purebloods to their promised land. You are wrong.

Let me tell you about the origins of this abomination that you seem to want to encourage.

Tom Marvolo Riddle was born on the 31st of December 1926, just 17 days before I was. During his school days he tried seducing the purebloods with his wit and charm. He wanted them to power his rise as the scion of Slytherin, upholding their rights as the supreme beings among the earth's inhabitants. This man then went on to be Lord Voldemort. The fallacy of all this, is that the man is the son of a muggle, whom Merope Gaunt, the last Daughter of that House, seduced using potions.

Now let us see how many 'pureblood' families have been destroyed by this person. McCauley, Marbish, Keller, Grouphin, Podrope, Greenberg, Porter, Kripper, Samblish, Chigs, Bergant, Shearbeef, Poultgem, Barophin... the list goes on and on. By my count, he has ended 24 Ancient or Noble or Ancient and Noble lines. Each of them was considered a blood-traitor. I cannot see the logic.

At the same time, he has killed several half-bloods; at least seven hundred of them, by my sources. He has killed upwards of five hundred muggleborn and including their families, up to twenty five hundred muggles. It is this person that you are tacitly supporting. You may not have the mark, but you are providing him the Black monies through Malfoy and Lestrange.

I am, in a word, ashamed of you. You have failed to uphold our tenets. You have let our family bow to another. You could very well be the worst Head of House, ever, and that includes father.

I hope you may still have a chance at redemption – you are my brother after all. Stop this madness.

You must –

"That little lying traitor!" snarled Arcturus. "She wants to do away with me. She betrays her blood. She should be put down along with the abominations she calls family! She casts slurs on the Dark Lord's ancestry! I shall call a blood feud on –"

"Expelliarmus!" screamed Sirius, ripping away the wand in Arcturus' hand, before summoning all the hidden wands and weapons on Arcturus Black's person.

Arcturus was stunned. "You dared attack me!" he harshly whispered. "You dared attack your Lord?"

"You are no longer my Lord. I was calm thus far, because Aunt Dorea, a woman who was and is my mother in every sense of the word bar blood, made me promise that I would try to convince you first. You chose to turn on her. I tried her way. Now I shall try mine. Billy!" he called the elf that had greeted him before. The elf appeared.

"What is young Master doing?" Billy cried in horror.

"I am ending the rule of this senile old man, Billy. Go bring the ritual dagger and bowl. NOW!" he added in a yell.

"What are you doing Sirius?" Arcturus asked through a haze of anger and fear.

"What I should have done as soon as I came of age," Sirius answered grimly. "You quite forgot that as much as the Potters influence me in my morals, I was still born and raised a Black."

Presently Billy returned with his cargo, and set it on the table between them, before hurriedly popping off.

Sirius snatched the dagger and cut his palm with it, before he jerked and extended the ring bearing finger of his grandfather. With one swish, the finger was cleanly cut by the dagger bathed in the blood of the two generations. The ring, separated from the magical person, loosened up and fell onto the table. Sirius held the ring up. He knew this was a risk. The ring could reject his claim, and could remove his magic for usurpation. But what was life without a little risk?

"By virtue of my defeat of the past Lord Black, I, Sirius Orion Black, by Blood, Oath, Will, Soul and Magic, claim the ring of the Lord of this Most Ancient and Noble House of Black!" He put the ring on, and it immediately resized to fit his finger.

Arcturus was looking at the man who used to be his grandson with incredulity, awe, fear...and pleased surprise?

"So finally, you did come into your own as a Black, grandson," Arcturus said with a twisted expression, which nevertheless was discernible as a smirk coming through a pained grimace. "Heal me, will you?"

Sirius healed him. He wasn't totally cruel enough to leave the man in pain.

"You were always strong-headed, boy. I knew you were the correct choice to be Lord Black, eventually. But you were soft, innocent. I was worried. Would you have what it took to win and survive at any cost?" Sirius looked at his grandfather in confusion. "Would you be able to subvert the ring to your will, I worried."

Sirius glanced at the onyx-set-in-diamond and platinum ring with a bit of awe. He couldn't believe that he coldly snatched the ring after cutting his grandfather's finger.

"You showed too much goodness to honestly claim this ring, for this ring is bloody. It has the bloodiest history of all the old Houses. It has always passed through death or usurpation or through the Heir overthrowing the incumbent Lord. Did you then have it in you to put aside the damned goodness that you were learning from those 'friends' of yours enough to do what was necessary?" He chuckled immoderately. "You showed your cleverness, your ability, and most importantly your suitability. You took the Black ring without murdering me – thereby keeping the House's traditions, and you own scruples, intact. You are worthy."

Sirius looked at his grandfather in slight horror, pity, sympathy, and a lot of anger. He was still a bit shocked by his own actions. How could he have done it, really? He had planned on claiming the Ring yes, but he was going to coax Arcturus into abdicating for him. Cutting a finger? That was way over anything he could have thought of. It was almost as if the ring asked him to do so... No, he was not letting anything and anyone control him, not even the House ring.

"Well, I will ensure that my Heirs don't have to resort to such a thing. I will willingly abdicate when my Heir reaches the age of twenty five, and will make it a family rule. Stupid, senile fools, who hold onto power too long, suffer the ignominy of being ousted because they become despots."

"You would reject power?"

"No, I'm not rejecting power, you idiot! By moulding my Heir with love and helping him understand and accept the world the way I see it, my Heir will learn to be what he would need to be in a progressive world, the way I envision it, and the way the Blacks will ensure their survival without bloody coups – even coups of the sort that I pulled! The future generations will all be in my power, willingly!"

"But the history...!" Arcturus protested.

"Does the ring drive the wearer insane, grandfather? If it is so, I will get another crafted!" Sirius was getting more and more agitated by the moment. How had they not realised that Arcturus was not sane anymore? Well he hadn't been around, and given the fact that almost all the others were insane, there was a chance that everybody thought that things were normal...so maybe...

"I honestly never expected all this," he murmured to himself. Rubbing his temples, he thought about what he had to do. "Well, that's it! I, Sirius Orion Black, by the powers vested in me as the Head of House Black, hereby decree that Lord-Emeritus Arcturus Procyon Black, Lady-Emeritus Irma Calliope Black, Pollux Phineas Black and Astoria Millicent Black, and Orion Regulus Black and Walburga Andromeda Black, shall from this day onwards, be confined to the address of 12, Grimmauld Place, forevermore. They are forbidden from any contact, initiated either by them or by anyone else, unless approved by the Head of the House. So I have decreed this 30th day of November, 1979."

"NO!" cried Arcturus.

Sirius ignored him. The past three and a bit year were worse for the family than he expected. The previous generation had gone nuttier than squirrel excrement. He felt a severe oncoming headache. He really hadn't signed up for all this. At least he had Uncle Charlus to help him with this new madness. How exactly did he end up playing a prank on himself? Well the time was not for those musings. He had better and more important things to do, and fast.

"KREACHER!" he hollered. The elf popped into existence, next to him, looking like death warmed over.

"Master is telling Kreacher to sleep, but bad Master calls Kreacher. Bad Master! Bad Master!" he cried. Kreacher seemed just as insane. He got the usual happiness he derived when he called Sirius 'bad master' and then proceeded to pound his head with his own fists in the usual punishment.

Sirius thrust the ring bearing hand into Kreacher's face. "Look, you piece of vermin! I am Lord Black. I want you to send word to Regulus to come here immediately. Then do whatever you were ordered to do by him. Do you understand? Get him here, NOW! No wait, I will go one better. Billy!" The elf popped besides Kreacher. "Go with Kreacher and get Regulus here, now!"

Sirius was growing more confused and angry by the minute, and at the moment, all he could think of was getting over the day which was going nowhere close to what he had planned it to be. He snatched a quill, inkpot and some parchment to send a note to the temporary guests of Longbottom Hall, and thereby to send for help. He was soon lost in thought as he tried to frame the letter in the best way possible.

A loud pop broke in his reverie. Billy had returned with a thunder-faced Regulus. Kreacher had just returned from wherever he had been called by "Lord Black" and had informed him about the summons he had received from the Head of House. This was after Regulus had specifically forbidden Kreacher from answering the summonses of anyone but him. He intended to add Sirius on that list, but it would take some convincing, something that Kreacher was in no state to understand after his ordeal. He doubted that the poor creature would be in any state for a few months – and that played nicely into his plans. The Dark Lord would keep a close watch for at least a few weeks. It was only foolish to launch an attack on his treasures in that time.

But that was beside the current matter of Kreacher's health. He had reported Kreacher's near-fatal injury to Lord Black, so he shouldn't have called! Grandfather or not, he and Lord Black would have words over the matter, he had decided. One look at who had summoned him, though, killed that thought stone-dead. The Lord Black he faced though wasn't his grandfather.

"Sirius," he gasped. There was confusion now, on his face. And it did not show the new emotion he felt – happiness. Sirius was back. Sirius was back! How he had hoped to mend fences with his brother, almost as soon as he had taken the mark, just as he had known it was a fool's hope! And that chance was handed to him on a silver platter!

Oh, he had taken that accursed thing. His parents had been happy! Mother had arranged for a feast that night. It was all about the Heir Black increasing the standing of the House with his actions. He had kept a calm face and a strained smile, that day. He had not lost his control around the truly horrid persons he called family.

But within him, his conscience was tearing him apart. He truly didn't care for the blood purity stupidity anymore, now that he was faced with the reality of becoming a Death Eater. He did consider the muggleborn beneath him, but he didn't care for being a murderer. And that was what taking the Dark Mark had done to him. Lucius had done unspeakable things to a young muggleborn girl, aged seven at most, for some time while making her parents watch, even as Avery tortured them. Then the two had taken turns torturing all three. When they were beyond saving, he had been asked to kill them all.

The little girl had asked him with her eyes what she had ever done to him. She had accused him of being with them – as he had been till that moment. Her defiled and mutilated body had become a metaphor for his soul, for his conscience and sanity. Her beautiful blue eyes were not the only ones filled with tears as Regulus mouthed "sorry" just before he numbly murdered her parents and then her with three spells. He had only just gathered himself at that time.

But once the celebrations had abated, he had cried. He had cried like a baby. He had sunk deeper and deeper into depression and sorrow as his dreams were haunted with the images of the young girl. His health had deteriorated as a result, even as he craved the sweet release of death. He would happily go to hell, but he could no longer live with himself and the grating voice of that harpy that believed that she was his mother.

Yet he knew in the heart of his hearts, that it was too easy a punishment for him. He had made mistakes and unless he atoned for them, he didn't deserve to have a single happy thought. His iron resolution to somehow put things to rights had saved his life, but had ironically made his mind his own personal Azkaban. For the Dark Lord, too, the incident was not as it would have otherwise been. The incident would have gained Voldemort a mindless follower. It instead created his most insidious enemy. Regulus would bring Voldemort down, not for himself, but for that little girl and Sirius. Or he would die trying.

Sirius, who had been thrown out over his non-compliance, had been right. They were all monsters. He had made the ultimate mistake in joining them. He wanted to fall at his brother's feet and grovel and ask for forgiveness – something he knew he did not deserve. And a part of his mind knew that it wasn't just Sirius' forgiveness he needed. He needed her forgiveness too. And it would never come.

In his last warning, Sirius had said that he would have to take actions that would have such consequences which he would never be able to bear. He had been right. When he had left that day, Regulus had felt that he would never meet his brother again, and had been partially relieved and happy. The day after he took the Dark Mark, he had grieved over that very fact.

Seeing Sirius standing in front of him broke down the dam that he had created through sheer force of will as he blocked off everything he remembered from those two incidents – Sirius leaving, and the night that his hands were stained with innocent blood. Leaving Billy's grasp, he ran to his brother and hugged him as he broke down into noisy sobs, just as he had so many years ago when Bella had nearly killed him in what she thought was a prank.

"I am sorry, Siri! I am sorry! I am sorry!" Regulus chanted as he slowly sunk to his knees, crying his eyes out.

On his part, Sirius didn't know what to do. A part of him was elated, for Regulus had most assuredly come to his senses. That part of him recognised that he had his little brother back, and so very much wanted to comfort him. Another part of him though, was unsure. Regulus was also the man who had thrown the fact that Sirius had been disowned – even if not legally – by the family into Sirius' face. Was it wise to entertain him? Had Reggie taken the Mark? Was he, Regulus, his innocent little brother anymore? It was a dichotomy of thoughts and feelings that bamboozled Sirius, especially after he had just forcibly taken up the mantle of Lord Black, which too was not completely born of his own will.

"Reggie?" he finally called softly, grasping his brother by the shoulder. Regulus was still shaking with his sobs as he kept apologising, which somehow felt curiously cleansing for the man. "Regulus!" called Sirius again.

"I am sorry, Sirius!" he said again. "I am sorry! You were right! They are all monsters, Siri! They are all monsters! And I..." he faltered as another sob was wrenched from his throat. "I became one of them! I became a monster Sirius!" he ended in a harsh whisper as he drew the sleeve of his shirt off the marked left arm. "I tried to remove it, Siri, I tried. I swear I did! But I am tainted!" he blubbered. "I am tainted! I am sorry!"

Sirius looked at his brother. He had been a prankster, so even if it was not of the same level, Sirius knew all about real and faux remorse and regret. One look at Regulus, and he knew that those two R's, between them, were tearing his brother apart. If his vocal remorse wasn't evidence enough, the obvious attempts at scrubbing the Mark or at cutting the skin around it to remove it made things perfectly clear. Regulus was gutted by whatever had happened.

Sirius so wanted to yell at his brother for not listening to him, for being foolish enough to be drawn into his parents' and grandparents' words. He wanted to recoil in horror because Regulus had undoubtedly murdered an innocent person. And yet, he wanted to hug his brother back and console him, and berate him for being foolish enough to try cutting the Mark away, and to make him talk. "Bloody hell!" he mentally swore. "When did being Sirius Black get so f-ing complicated?"

Finally he gave Regulus a one-armed hug. "Do you want to talk about it?" He received no response. "It was an order, Regulus, framed as a question. Talk about it!"

And talk Regulus did. He told Sirius about his initiation, about how the initiation broke him and how Kreacher nursed him back to health. He then told Sirius how he would find out about raids in which he would not participate and rig them to fail, often even fatally for the Death Eaters. He told him about his stonewalling of any attempts by the Dark Lord to read his mind subtly and how he showed utmost loyalty when facing the fiend. He told him about how he had learnt on his own in the past year to live in muggle areas and not be noticed. He told him how he imperiused police officers to show him the records of the worst kinds of criminals and repeat offenders, and how he influenced the raids so that these people would be targeted. He also told him how he was researching all the kinds of rituals that Voldemort might have performed for magically enhancing himself or for immortality as he had recently boasted.

It was a massive leap of faith for Regulus. He never even entertained the absurd notion that Sirius might have come around to Voldemort's side – not that he had. He trusted his brother as he had never done before. And it also felt extremely cathartic. Lily would have laughed at Sirius being used in place of the parish priest as Regulus sat in an imaginary confession box.

Sirius, on his part, was absolutely proud. Regulus was showing that he had it in him to accept and correct his mistakes or at least atone for them. And he did that with aplomb.

"I finally found out what he has done, Siri," Regulus ended his story at long last.

"What?"

"He has split his blackened soul," Regulus whispered, and this time, his voice held disgust, hatred and fear.

"WHAT?"

"Yes." He then went on to tell Sirius the tale of Kreacher and the Cave, without excluding the either sights, sounds and smells as the elf had described them, or the ordeal that Kreacher went through. By the end, both had sunk half a bottle of firewhiskey between them.

"I finally found out the way to atone fully, at least to my conscience, Siri," the ex-Death Eater slurred. "I was going to go and retrieve that. Only then was I going to meet you, with proof that I was against that...that thing!"

"Are you stupid, Reggie?" Sirius slurred back. "You were going into a hostile situation without backup?"

"Well, I couldn't have exactly called anyone for help, could I?"

"Regulus, you are my brother. You are also an infernal prat who doesn't know his brain from arse, but you are still my brother. If you had only let me know, or asked, I would have helped you, no matter what. If you were still under his sway, I would have hexed you and set you straight! We are family Reggie; we always help each other..."

"I know..." Regulus replied, before his head dropped and he started snoring. A few moments later, a very bemused and drunk Sirius did the same.

"Mum, I'm worried about Sirius," James confided in Dorea.

"Why?"

He gave her a look that clearly asked whether such a question was even necessary. "He has gone into the house of Black after nearly three and half years, Mum. We had all promised him that when the confrontation eventually came, as we knew it would, we would all have his back. Pettigrew is a no-go, of course, but I think Moony and I must go there."

"Remus can't. There are dark creature wards on that property."

"Remus is not a dark creature!" James automatically replied indignantly on behalf of his friend.

"I know that. Sirius knows that. You know that. But that is not what they believed in. Knowing what I told you, are you willing to go in there with Remus and risk him dying?"

James deflated. "No," he agreed. "But I can't leave Padfoot on his own, can I?"

Dorea smiled at her son. Sirius was her grandnephew, but while neither he nor Dorea had openly acknowledged it, each of them thought of Sirius as her second son and her as the truly maternal figure in his life. James and Sirius had really been more like brothers. "I never said that, did I? This time, I think it is time for a daughter of Black to march upon her maiden home to rescue Sirius. With her husband and son in tow, of course," she added to cut off James' objections.

And so it was that at four in the afternoon, James and Charlus started inching away from the table where a newly revived pair of Black brothers – who had each been given sobering potions out of pity by the Potter males – while Dorea started working up a rant. For propriety's sake, they had ensured that Dorea waited for her anger to bubble forth until after they had administered Veritaserum to yet another Black brother to ascertain his loyalties.

Dorea's anger was always expressed in the coldest tones, most stringent and scathing words and with a glare that made the recipient feel an inch tall. A heavy dose of additional sarcasm flavoured it as well, making anyone listening on flinch in sympathy. She never needed to raise her voice. It was so...plebeian.

"You must be very proud of yourself, Sirius," Dorea spoke tonelessly.

All the James Bond fantasies Sirius had built around his 'mission' had crashed around the time that Regulus had come in. Now he was facing a court martial. He had the good sense to look abashed.

"Look at me, Sirius. I am talking to you, so the courtesy of appearing to pay attention to what I am speaking would be highly appreciated."

Both brothers looked at her sheepishly. It did not help her anger any to note that there resemblance to each other was marked at that moment than at any other.

"There is a very good reason why we had planned for this meeting beforehand. Was there or was there not?"

"Yes Ma'am."

"We had legitimate fear that we felt about you going into the situation. I hope you agree?"

"Yes Ma'am." It was always easier to just shut up and listen when Dorea raked you over the coals. If one argued, it always became worse.

"I believe that we have had words over you drinking before?"

"Yes."

"And have I, at any time over all the years that you have known me – right from the time you were a wee babe – made you feel unloved or unwanted, or expendable? Has either of Charlus or James done so?"

This was hitting below the belt. "No, Ma'am."

"Then you will agree that when we received no word from you, we would be worried?"

"Yes."

"Then please explain why you felt it prudent to drink in the first place. Add to that the fact that you drank while around a marked Death Eater – even though said person is your brother."

Sirius opened his mouth several times to answer, but each time he did so, the answer that he could've given seemed less of a good excuse than the previous one. He settled for a guilty silence.

"I am quite sure that your larynx works, Sirius. Unless you have added something in the whiskey that made you lose control of your tongue, I know that you can speak quite well. I expect an answer."

"I am sorry, Aunt Doe."

"No. I don't think you are! There were so many ways in which things could have gone wrong! Arcturus could have called you a traitor to the House and called familial judgement! You could have been killed! You could have been ambushed en route!"

"But I wasn't..." Sirius whined.

"I must have missed that," she replied. "You see I was worrying sick over a grandnephew that looks remarkably like you, that I really missed that my brother did not kill you!" Sirius grimaced. "Imagine my surprise, then, that when I come here, I find said grandnephew pissed and passed out, in the company of Mr. Black, a marked Death Eater, who also happens to be another grandnephew of mine. I find myself wanting several explanations."

"Alright now, you don't keep on calling me a Death Eater," Regulus protested, speaking up for the first time. "I have been fighting those monsters from within the...uh...organisation."

"Yes, I surmised as much, Black. I ascertained that with Veritaserum, so believe me, I know. I at least trust Sirius to know whom to associate with."

"Then what is your problem?"

Regulus hadn't had the same exposure that Sirius had had to Dorea's tirade. Deciding that he would rather keep the brother he had regained in one piece, Sirius piped in. He could probably head her off before she got going. "You want explanations Aunt Dorea. I will give you them. The plan went to pieces as soon as I entered your brother's study."

She merely raised an eyebrow at the way he addressed Arcturus, and in surprise at what he said. In answer, Sirius showed the ring glinting on his finger.

"You killed him?" she asked, a very faint, faint note of horror in her voice. It could not have been measured in parts per zillions.

"No I did not. I cut his finger though." Then his head jerked up as he realised what she had said. "You knew?"

"Of course I did," she responded, the horror gone now that she found out that her brother was not dead. "The ring accumulates a part of the magic and the traits of each successive Head of House. Since our House has mostly been Dark, it too became a somewhat Dark entity. Legend has it that the ring knows when the time is ripe for it to have a new master. I remember Arcturus winning it after defeating father in a duel which severely shortened his life expectancy by quite a few years, due to injuries. It was why I had not planned on you convincing Arcturus to part with it." She smiled slightly at the grimaces on the faces of the menfolk. "Where is he by the way?"

"Hmm?" asked Sirius as he was brought out of his musing. "Oh. I banished both my parents, and both sets of grandparents to Grimmauld Place. They are to have contact with nobody except each other. No one is to visit them and they are to visit nobody. He had gone mad. He started joking when I cut his finger and claimed the ring!"

"I wondered, really. We Blacks have been cursed with violently low life spans and a proclivity to equally violent mental infirmity..."

"That explains everything this git did back at school," James murmured. "It must have been a reduced effect in me from the maternal side," he added a bit louder than was healthy for him. A stinging curse from his mother found its target on his elbow soon after, along with Sirius' indignant "Oi!"

"Be that as it may," Charlus interrupted rushing in to protect his son from his mother and cousin, "the question still remains, what happens now?"

"More importantly," continued James, this time completely serious, "What have you been doing, Regulus?"

Regulus was silent for a while. Finally, he looked to the only person he felt he could trust at that moment with a questioning glance.

"Tell them," Sirius silently returned with a nod.

"Everything?" asked a cocked eyebrow.

"Yes."

And so it was that the Order within the Order found out about the Horcrux.

Charlus and Dorea were horror struck. Charlus hadn't known of the magic, but Dorea was a Black. She explained it in enough detail for Charlus to shudder.

"Padfoot?" called James, who had been silent since Regulus started his story.

"Hmm?" responded Sirius.

"If we had a prank to play that we knew would be our masterpiece, and were worried about its security, what would we do?"

"Make backup plans and another version of course," Sirius replied blithely, while simultaneously dismissing this meandering by James as irrelevant and irritating. Then, he looked up to see three pairs of shocked eyes looking at the cousins. James was not smiling. He was grimacing. And Sirius caught on. "You don't mean?"

"Yes."

"Why? How did you think of that?"

"Regulus," answered James. Casting an apologetic glance at the newly regained cousin, James continued, "Think Padfoot. If we wanted to test a prank, but wanted to make sure that nobody knew a prank was being pulled at all, who would we rope in?"

"The first years," agreed with a nod Sirius, understandingly. He continued, "Or any greenhorn for that matter. We would ask help from someone who would seem to look up to us. It would stop them from snitching once we got help from them. They would feel important by being given the opportunity to help us."

"He asked Regulus for help. Not directly, mind you, but he still asked Regulus to help. He expected instant compliance."

"That means he has done that before with another."

"Why Regulus, though?" questioned Sirius. "Has he trusted Peter or Snape with it?"

"Peter he knows to be a traitor. He won't get that thing. I don't know about Snape."

"You are missing a very important point," cut in Charlus. "He didn't ask just Regulus for help. He asked Regulus Black for help. He must have a precedent to expect instant compliance – apart from his natural magical power and threat to kill even his followers. He gave it to the Heir of the House which valued power, and would appreciate his strides into the Darkest Arts the most, simultaneously giving House Black a warning, lest it should have any ideas of its own."

"Bellatrix and Lucius," murmured Dorea, faintly green at the prospect.

"So before killing HIM, we need to destroy those things."

"Yes."

There was a protracted silence, before Regulus spoke up. "Regulus Black, Bellatrix, Rudolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, and Lucius Malfoy must die."

"WHAT?"

"Yes. You must call familial judgement on them all, and confiscate everything they own."

"I won't kill you Reggie!" Sirius fiercely growled.

"You won't kill me, you oaf. You will kill Regulus Black, not me. You will also not do something so 'intrinsically pureblood' as calling judgement when you can just kill them, avenge Narcissa, and be done. Judgement is what the public will read in the papers. They will read House Black being reclaimed by the correct Heir, and avenging betrayal by unscrupulous persons."

"And who knows vengeance better than us?" Dorea agreed.

"A subterfuge," Charlus recognised correctly.

"But I don't want you to be cast as a villain!"

"Regulus Black was a villain, Sirius," the younger Black replied with a gusty sigh. "I don't want to be what I was before. This will help me create a new identity and a new life." Sirius couldn't fault that logic.

"You will of course be my blood adopted, long-lost cousin once removed, Eric Potter?" Charlus asked in confirmation.

"Why Eric?" protested Regulus.

"Nobody really gets to name themselves, son." Regulus only huffed in annoyance.

Marlene McKinnon cowered as she backed up against the wall of the hut in which Lucius Malfoy had cornered her. Her fear was no longer for her life alone, nor for her life alone.

"It is time to teach you your place, bitch. For too long, you have enjoyed what should be mine, and mine al-" was all that he managed to say. He was standing with his wand drawn, leering at her, and making the customary 'evil villain's monologue' when Billy the House Elf popped in behind him, and snatched him off to the Black Gate. A moment later Billy popped back in and squeaked, "Master Sirius is being asking his Miss Marl to come to the Black Gate."

He then popped off onto his errand of finding the Lestranges. He was in luck. They were taking a well-deserved rest in their hovel after a particularly energy-sapping bout of torture and pillaging. The work of Dark Wizards wasn't easy, damn it!

"Can either of you control Fiendfyre?" Charlus asked his wife, son and younger grandnephew.

The older grandnephew was sleeping off after another half bottle of firewhiskey, ensconced in the loving embrace of his fiancée. Killing of people in cold blood was new, even if it was necessary. It was finally a matter of cold arguments over compunctions that got one killed during wars. Logical Arguments won.

But it wasn't just killing them that they had done. Sirius, James and Dorea had creatively tortured the information out of them, never using the Unforgivable. Lucius had easily caved in, summoning the elf, Dobby with the Diary. It had taken them an hour to verify that it was the real thing. Bella took longer, considering that she actually craved for more. So finally Sirius had to use family magic on them all and break her mind open. The Hufflepuff Cup was retrieved from her bedchamber. Rudolphus and Bella were trying for a child, and they had taken to drinking aphrodisiac potions from the Cup to ensure that the baby would be like their Lord.

James had then transfigured the four into large wooden planks which had been placed into an empty, large box. They had all cast blasting hexes at the planks which had promptly regained their original form of the dead bodies of the four Death Eaters. They had then painstakingly re-transfigured the body parts into firewood.

A newly pregnant Narcissa too was sleeping in another room after her hysterical tear-shedding and cursing in relief at being saved from the monster that was Lucius Malfoy. Draco Black would forever be grateful to his cousin, Sirius, for protecting him and his mother from that murderer that fathered him, and he would strive to never be anything like him.

"Why?"

"That's the only way we can destroy that thing."

"Shit," muttered Regulus as he looked up from the book he was poring over.

"No. I have a healthy bowel movement. I can't do such things on command either, Eric." James guffawed as Charlus paled under his wife's gimlet eye. 'Eric' rolled his eyes, though he couldn't suppress a smile. Perhaps this was how a real family behaved. No wonder Sirius got addicted to that.

"I think we should move on to that Cave soon," James spoke after another hour of searching for alternative methods.

"But he is bound to check on that place after we release the news that these scum are dead!" protested Regulus as he pointed to the firewood which was made of the transfigured bodies of the Lestranges and Lucius Malfoy.

"True," James acknowledged. "But it is a place which almost nobody visits. We could just place those things inside, set the whole place on Fiendfyre, and let everything be destroyed. There will be no need to bother with controlling that kind of magic. There is a good reason why it is uncontrollable. It is the magical fire of what muggles call purgatory. Though it is considered Dark, it is actually a cleansing fire, devouring everything in its path, and leaving space for new things to be born again. The inferi, the three...things, and that potion will all be destroyed. Stone is not really magical, so it will act as a natural container. With nothing left to burn, it will die out, on its own."

Three pairs of eyes stared at him and blinked. A bleary-eyed, newly awake Sirius, who stood in the doorway behind James, finally said in surprise, "What you said just gave us proof apart from the Prongslet that Lily is rubbing off on you, in all manners possible." He had to duck to avoid the wad of parchment that James had aimed at his head.